


that would be enough

by lucylikestowrite



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Post Season 4, legit just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the cot they keep for emergencies lies Shaw, eyes closed.</p><p>//</p><p>Team Machine finds her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harold’s voice crackles through her earpiece. “We have her.”

Root snaps out of the autopilot that she had fallen into, dispatching two more Decima agents before putting a finger to her ear. “You have Shaw?” She tries to regulate her tone, but she can still hear her voice betraying her, its pitch rising slightly at that name.

“Miss Groves? You're not supposed to be on this frequency.”

“Oh, Harry. Did you really still think you could hide anything from me effectively? Even without Her I'm still perfectly functional.”

There is silence on the line, and Root can almost hear Harold deliberating.

“Yes, Miss Groves, we have Sameen-”

Root doesn't even let him finish before speaking again.

“Where are you? I'm on the fourth floor. Where are you?” She asks, her voice rising again.

Once again, there is silence. Then Harold coughs in a way that sounds almost guilty. “Go back to base, Root. We’ll meet you there. Mr. Reese has her. She's perfectly safe.”

Root can't believe what she’s hearing. “You can't think I'm going just going to leave her with you! I've been the only one who believed in her- believed she was still alive! I found this place!”

“We know. But this was always the plan. I'm sorry. You have not been subtle about your… affections for Miss Shaw. Decima will be expecting you to be the one to take her out of the building and back to base. They will be watching you. It is safer for everyone if you leave separately.”

“What was even the point of me coming, Harold, if you were just going to cut me out of the most important part of the job?”

“If you hadn't come at all they would've suspected. You’re also an excellent shot and we needed you. Plus we knew there was no way to stop you coming.”

“So I was just a distraction? I'm just the brute force? That's John’s job, Harold.” She waits, but there is still no answer. “This wouldn't have happened if She were around.”

Harold Is still quiet.. “Well it isn't. The Machine's not around, and you need to leave now. For your safety and Sameen’s. I'm sorry, but this was always the plan. We knew if we'd told you, you would've found some way around it. I'm truly sorry, Root, but you need to leave.”

Root switches off the earpiece, breathing slowly, fiddling with the trigger on the gun. She wants to dive back into the fray, fight her way back towards Shaw. She wants to ignore Finch, burst through the door that they are keeping Sameen behind, be the one who she sees first, be the one who rescues her. But, as much as she loathes to admit it, Harold is potentially right, and, even though it still feels wrong, after all these years, she has found people she trusts. Maybe even trusts with Shaw. If she can put Decima off their scent, if she can have them following her and not John, maybe Shaw has a chance. Maybe she can give Shaw that chance.

\---

And so she leaves as loudly as possible, silently praying to Shaw for forgiveness, drawing out what seems like dozens of agents as she shoots out windows, breaks fire alarms and sets off a number of (small) explosions.

It takes her hours to lose them all, dispatching them around New York City, twisting and turning and going back on herself, always leading them in the opposite direction to the route she knows the others will take.

And when she arrives, finally, at the subway station, she is bruised and battered and bleeding from her closest shave - a 9mm in Brooklyn that just missed her brachial artery - Harold is there, waiting.

“Is she- did you-” she can't even finish a sentence, she just needs to know.

Harold nods, and she makes her way, unsteadily, into the car, and there she is.

On the cot they keep for emergencies lies Shaw, eyes closed.

As she feels her heartbeat speed up, because, oh god, that's Shaw right there, she turns slowly back to Harold. “If you ever do that to me again, Finch...”

She can see something that resembles remorse on his face, and so she lets it go, feeling her anger dissipate as quickly as it had come. “She’s so still. Why is she she so still?”

“She's just sleeping. But they must have drugged her when they realised we were coming. In fact, had we arrived any later, the dose they had been planning to give her would've been fatal-”

Root’s face must have fallen, because he moves on hurriedly. “It made it rather more difficult for us to transport her - Mr Reese had to carry her for a large part of the journey - but we got her back, as you can see.”

Root moves to Shaw’s side, dropping down onto the subway floor beside her, one hand reaching out to Shaw’s, before she decides against the idea, and leaves it just a few inches away.

“How long until she wakes up?”

“We’re not sure. It could be a while, but Miss Shaw is rather more hardy than your average person.”

So Root waits and waits, unmoving. Harold offers her a chair, but she declines, not wanting to move away from Sameen for even a second.

After an hour or so, she is aware of Reese entering the subway car, announcing that he's got rid of the last Decima agents around the city, that they're completely safe now, and a small knot of tension unravels in Root’s stomach.

Reese does not leave, and she can feel the stares of him and Harold boring through her skull, and she knows it is only out of concern for Shaw, that they care about her too, but it feels like she has an audience.

It is three hours after she arrived at the station, one and a half hours after the other two started moving around, doing work and most importantly not staring any more, that Root sees Shaw’s finger twitch. She moves her own hand, just a little, just so their hands are just touching - and Shaw’s hand pounces, gripping onto Root’s like she can't let go.

Shaw’s eyelashes are fluttering, and then the smallest of sounds comes out of her mouth. “Root?” she asks. It is dry and low and quiet but she says it.

Root feels the corners of her mouth twitch up, working their way towards a smile, the first she had allowed herself all evening.

“Yeah, it's me, Sameen,” she whispers, their hands still intertwined.

A smile struggles to form on Shaw’s face. “I knew you'd find me in the end, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

And then Root allows herself to fully smile, but at the same time she is crying, because, fuck, Shaw is really back.

These words seem to have tired Shaw out, and her eyes close, falling back asleep, but this time it is more natural.

Maybe it is what she said, maybe it is the fact that Shaw no longer seems so paralysed, so horribly still as before, maybe she is simply tired, but Root finds that she no longer feels like she can't look away from Shaw for fear of her disappearing, and she drifts off as well, her hand still in Shaw’s, head rested on the thin mattress.


	2. Chapter 2

She wakes up when Shaw does, rest disturbed by Shaw pushing herself up to a sitting position. She momentarily wonders whether Shaw should even be sitting up right now, but then decides against persuading her to lie back down: if Shaw wanted to sit up, she would sit up.

As the fog of sleep clears from her mind, she notices the quiet of the subway station.

Shaw has noticed it as well. “Everyone's left.”

“It sure looks that way, Sam.”

“Why did they do that?” Shaw seems almost offended.

“Maybe they thought we needed some privacy.” Something has crept back into Root’s voice, something that she'd thought has been lost a long time ago.

Shaw tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “And why, Root, would we need that?”

“I don't know, Shaw, you tell me,” she says, a grin on her face, but inside she is telling herself that if Shaw doesn't respond to this, if she doesn't want to, or can't, or won't, she will let it go, because having her back, seeing her alive and breathing is really all Root needs.

Then Shaw twists herself around to sit on the edge of the cot so that she is looking directly at Root, and grabs grabs hold of her jacket, dragging her up off the floor and towards her with strength she shouldn't even have. For a second, neither of them moves, Shaw breathing heavily, staring, Root not breathing, kneeling, her legs pressing into the side of the cot, their faces suddenly only inches away from each other.

Five more seconds pass and it becomes five seconds too many, because now Root needs this, and so pulls herself inwards. When their mouths meet she sighs, moving her hands up to grip Shaw’s arms, a little bit worried that if she doesn't hold on as tight as possible she will float away - or maybe just collapse back to the floor, her legs feel so weak.

Her hands move up Shaw’s arms, tangling in her hair, and, as the kiss deepens, as Shaw’s mouth becomes more urgent on hers, she settles her hands on the back of Shaw’s neck, leaning in further, pressing in, closing every possible inch of space between them, and with their bodies so close together, Root can feel Shaw's heartbeat. 

Finally, they break apart, breathing heavily, chests rising and falling in sync, foreheads still slightly touching, and when they meet each other’s eyes there is something new there; Root can see a spark in Shaw’s eyes that makes her stomach twist, makes her feel like the whole world has shifted slightly, like she could probably do anything. Shaw doesn't hold Root's gaze for long, but closes her eyes, and her face changes in the way only hers can: a thousand times in only a second, changing so quickly and so quietly that if you didn't know her, if you didn't look close enough or care enough, you might think that she wasn't saying anything at all. But she is; as her eyes close, she shakes her head, almost imperceptibly, her mouth twisting in a way that is almost disbelieving, as though she can't believe what she's just done. And then her mouth changes, moving back into something resembling a smile, one that could almost been seen as the smile of someone in love - or maybe Root's being hopeful, maybe it just means that everything is going to be okay, and maybe that's all she needs.

And then Shaw twists away, running a hand through her hair. Root resists the urge to pout, although, really, that kiss could probably last her a lifetime - the last one she got nearly had to. Shaw sighs, shaking her head and half-smiling. “There’s someone coming. Unless you wanted an audience again…”

Shaw is right; Root only has time to stand up and stretch out the sleep from her muscles before Harold slowly makes his way into the car.

“Good morning, Miss Groves,” he says, and Root thinks they got away with it until he looks past her, and she thinks she sees a raised eyebrow. “Miss Shaw. I trust you slept for a while more while we were gone? Mr Reese thought we shouldn't move you. I assure you, though, you were quite safe - we locked the entrances.”

Shaw’s voice comes from behind Root. “We were locked in?” There is something in her tone that would sound nervous if she didn't know Shaw better.

“No, no, of course not,” Harold says, hastily. “No-one could have gotten in, but you would've been perfectly able to leave, had you wanted to. ”

Shaw nods, and that seems to be the end of that. The next time anyone speaks is fifteen minutes later. In that time, Root has forced herself away from Shaw, and is toying inconsequentially with some documents on Finch’s desk. She is trying to keep her eyes away from Shaw, as if proving something, although to who, she is not sure.

“What time is it?” Shaw asks.

“Eight thirty,” Harold responds. “Why?”

“I’m going out.”

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, Miss Shaw, you should still be resting,” Harold starts, but Root, seeing something in Shaw’s expression, is already moving to her side, offering a hand.

For a second Shaw gives the hand a dirty look, then she seems to realise that she isn't getting off the cot without it, and takes it. Root stumbles for a second, more weight being put on her than she had expected - what did they do to Shaw? - then she rights herself, using both hands to pull Shaw up.

For the first time, she notices that all Shaw is wearing is jeans and a t-shirt, goosebumps forming on her arms. Shaw follows her eyes. Root assumes she has made the same realisation, as she nods at a locker at the end of the car, so small and unassuming that Root hadn't even noticed it until now.

“I kept some spare shit in there, essentials. Unless you cleared it out.”

When Root opens the locker, she finds it two thirds full of weapons, but she digs down to find, underneath, what Shaw most needs - a coat and some shoes. Shaw comes up behind her, taking them out of Root’s hands, then digging further down, pulling out a bag, and stuffing it full with everything in the locker that isn't a weapon. Root sees her hands hesitate near a gun, then move away almost as quickly, before slamming the door shut.

As she sits back down on the cot, pulling on the shoes and shrugging into the coat, Root takes the hat she was wearing last night out of her pocket, goes to put it on, then looks over at Shaw, who suddenly seems so small, smaller than usual, wearing a coat that used to fit perfectly but hangs off of her in a way that suggests she’s lost just a little too much weight, and changes her mind. When Shaw stands up, she tugs the hat on over her hair, smiling as Shaw scowls, hands moving down Shaw’s arms, lingering, unwilling to let her go.

“I wouldn't want you to catch a cold, Sameen.” Shaw rolls her eyes, but Root thinks she sees her smile.

She loops an arm through Shaw’s, who only half-heartedly attempts to extricate herself, before giving up, and then with a smile and a “I’ll call if we need anything, Harold,” they are out of the door and gone.


	3. Chapter 3

When they make their way out of the subway onto the busy street above, Shaw pauses, head turning from side to side, then up to the sky.

Root realises then what that look had meant. As she turns to Shaw, words forming on her lips, Shaw answers her question before she even asks.

“The last time I was outside, I had a stick of explosive in my pocket and was on my way to stop some idiots from getting themselves killed. Nine months ago, give or take. It is September, right?”

“Yeah, it's September, Sameen.”

\--

Shaw doesn't know where she wants to go, so they just walk, and end up in Central Park. They're there for hours, watching the sun get high in the sky.

The whole time, Root keeps Shaw tight by her side, although by the end she’s not sure who the arm she still has through Shaw’s is supporting, who is more in need of it. At times, she feels Shaw flagging against her arm, and so they stop, sitting. Root feels slightly like she is waiting for something, but she’s not sure for what.

As the sun begins to set, Root notices how Shaw’s eyes are training towards every food truck they pass, and so they spend fifteen minutes deciding which one to go to. Or, Shaw spends fifteen minutes deciding, while Root watches on in what she hopes is at least vaguely concealed adoration.

In the end, Shaw doesn't decide, so Root buys as much as she can carry, and as Shaw starts to eat, that's when she talks.

Or, at least, as much as Shaw ever does, and as much as is possible between bites.

“It sucked, Root. There was no steak, no alcohol, no Bear.”

“No me.”

Shaw takes a momentary break from the burger she is eating. “Yeah, sure, Root, no you.” Sarcasm drips from her mouth. She takes another bite. “It was tough.”

But she turns away as she says it.

\--

“I need sleep. And a shower. You have somewhere we can go, right? Somewhere that isn’t the subway? I need a proper bed.”

Root has been thinking about this all day, and when Shaw asks, she is ready. They are at an apartment, one of the many she always has ready, in less than half an hour.

As she lets them in, Shaw shrugs off her coat, and kicks off her shoes at the same time. “Shower?”

“Second door on the left.” She practically sprints inside, pulling her hair out of its tie.

While Shaw showers, Root gets changed, her mind spinning, everything on overdrive. She sits on a couch where she can see the door to the bathroom, legs curled up underneath her. When Shaw emerges, drying her hair, Root inhales sharply, everything seeming very real and present and real, and points towards the bedroom, an apologetic look on her face.

“There's only one bed… I can sleep here if you want.”

Shaw stares at her for a second, then chucks the towel at Root and makes her way to the bedroom door.

“I don't care, Root. Half of a,” she opens the door. “Really big bed is more than I've had in a long time.”

And so that's how Root ends up sharing a bed with Shaw. She falls asleep, her back to Root, almost immediately, but Root lies awake, suddenly terrified that if she closes her eyes everything will melt away.

When she does eventually sleep, despite her fight to keep her eyes open, it is not for long; she wakes up three times in the night, as if her body knows that she needs to check Shaw is still there. Still sleeping, still breathing, still in her bed, close enough to touch.

The third time, it is light outside, and she decides that she doesn't need to go back to sleep, that she is content lying there, Shaw’s face now only eight inches in away, until she realises that she is still tired, and inevitably, her eyes close, and she sleeps again.

But when she wakes up, the bed is empty, sheets in disarray. Root tries to slow the quickening of her heartbeat, sure that she's being irrational, getting out of the bed, and making her way into the other room. Her heartbeat slows when, sure enough, she finds Shaw, sitting on the window ledge, staring out, and she kicks herself for not trusting her, for letting herself get scared like that.

Shaw doesn't notice her for a second, and in that moment, Root leaning against the door frame, both of them still, she's ridiculously happy, her heart beating almost as fast as it had been before, and she wonders at how, almost a year ago, this was impossible.

“This isn't a safe house, is it?” When Shaw speaks, it startles Root out of her reverie. “The windows aren't reinforced. The door only has one lock.”

Root smiles. “It's kinda the closest thing I have to an actual home here. Would you have preferred we went somewhere more secure?”

“Oh, no way,” Shaw says, moving away from the window. “I'm done with locks.”

“You know, you're the first person I've brought back here.”

Shaw stops, eyes down, just far enough away to be out of reach, and it's suddenly agonising.

“Root. You know I can't be everything you expect me to be. I don't even know if I can stay.”

Shaw’s words hurt a bit, but no more than a punch you are expecting does, no more than a blow you know will come. And anyway, nothing can ever hurt her again, really. Root died the day she thought Shaw did, and nothing can ever compare to that, so when she speaks next, it is the truth.

“You can be you, Sameen, that's good enough for me.”

Shaw seems to contemplate this for a second, then nods, raising her eyes to meet Root’s. And then she kisses her, pushing her up against the door frame, before dragging Root back into the bedroom.

\--

They stay in Root’s apartment for the next week. They eat together, spend their days together, and sometimes Shaw talks, but only sometimes. Most of the time they are silent. The first couple of days, Root tries to fill the gaps, fill them with anything, but she realises soon enough that it doesn’t work, that it was better just to leave Shaw to her own devices.

Each night, they sleep in the same bed, although not together, not after the first morning, and each morning, Root wakes up to Shaw, quietly breathing next to her.

Until the ninth morning, when she wakes up to an empty bed, and a note on the pillow where Shaw’s head should be.

_“I suck at goodbyes, Root._

_Never had much use for them before. You know what's pathetic? I think you kept me alive. I'm still not even sure how much I like you ~~, let alone if I lo~~ , but you kept me alive when I was in there, because I knew how stubborn you are and I knew you wouldn't let me go after what I did. _

_I'll come back. You guys would crash and burn without me. I'll come back, you have to believe me, but don't look for me this time. If you look for me, it won't work. I need some time out, some time away from everything._

_I’ll come back. I need to fall for a bit, and I’m trusting you not to try to catch me this time.”_

She doesn't sign it, and Root wonders what she would've put if she had.

Root doesn’t look for her, although sometimes she is tempted to. She doesn’t show anyone else the note, doesn’t fall for their pitying glances. Shaw said she would be back, and she will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally a three chapter fic. i have a v teeny epilogue written, and i might extend it a bit now it's its own chapter, but let it be known that it will most probably be TEENY. don't want to raise expectations too much.


	4. Epilogue

Two months later, She is still not working properly, and Root is ruing that when she turns a corner into a dead-end alley way, two hit-men on her heels, her lip bleeding from a punch she shouldn't have let them land. In the ten seconds between when she turned the corner and when they will, she evaluates all her options - she has a gun with an empty clip, a sat-phone that wouldn't have time to call anyone, and prayers.

She turns to the wall, looking for any way out of this ridiculous situation. Time seems to slow down, and she silently begs Shaw for forgiveness. And then there is a gun-shot. She winces, waiting for the pain, wondering whether she’s just in shock, whether the pain will come eventually. But then there is another, and this time she is certain that whoever is holding the gun isn't shooting, and she pivots, slowly, a smile forming on her face.

Shaw walks towards her, stowing away her gun.

“I knew you’d come back for me, sweetie.”

“Yeah, well, I said you guys would crash and burn without me - so of course I come back to find you on a suicide mission. What the fuck were you doing, going off on your own?”

Root shrugged. “Harold and John were busy. I wasn’t.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, moving closer. “You're the worst,” she says.

“Yeah, but you love me,” Root responds, tilting her head down to meet Shaw’s eyes.

Shaw doesn't say anything, pushing Root back against the wall, and when their lips meet, she tastes blood in her mouth.

Root is never going to get tired of this, never going to get tired of Shaw’s lips on hers, her breath hot in her mouth, their bodies colliding.

The wall is cold against her back, even through the leather of her jacket, and so are Shaw’s fingers, pressing into the back of her neck, but at the same time she feels like she’s on fire. There is something in Shaw’s manner, something urgent behind her actions, something hungry.

When they break for breath, Root smirks. “You love me so much that you actually missed me.”

“I didn’t… not miss you.”

Root’s smirk turns into a smile, her eyes creasing, and wow, she thinks, she’s actually happy.

Shaw kisses her again, her smile melting against Shaw’s mouth, and she corrects herself; somehow, after everything that's happened, after times when she thought she would get no relief from the pain, when she couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel, she’s not just happy, she’s blissful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin. it was originally shorter, but I made it a bit longer when I split the fic into four. hope y'all enjoy this and that it finishes it off satisfactorily :)


End file.
